The grass hut’s roof and walls quickly burned away, leaving only the charred pillars and beams smoldering for a while. The four of them waited for the ashes to cool enough, then retrieved the captured deer, butchered it on the spot, and had a meal.
The perfectly cooked venison was delicious.
As they finished eating, the sky grew dark, and raindrops began to fall.
“It’s raining,” Irika said, looking up at the sky with her legs stretched out on the grassland. Demba also looked up.
“Ah, I’m stuffed… and now it’s raining,” Kanga muttered, lying on the ground with his arms and legs spread out. Nearby, Emariya was carefully wrapping the leftover venison in oak leaves she had gathered from the bushes.
“We’ve lost our shelter from the rain,” Irika said, glancing at the burnt remains of the hut. “There shouldn’t be any more traps ahead. Shall we move on after a short rest?”
“Yes,” Demba agreed.
After spending a short while sheltering from the rain under a tree, the four of them resumed their journey northeast along the beaten path.
In about an hour, they arrived at the village of Sappinai. The rain had stopped.
The sun peeking through the clouds was setting in the west.
The vast plains stretched as far as the eye could see, dyed in a reddish hue. Demba was reminded of the African sunset.
They reached the edge of the village, by the river flowing from Mount Urarusu into the Ishikari River. This is now known as Nakagoya River.
The narrow river was about four meters wide, with a ten-meter-wide riverbank. Near the confluence, there was a depression surrounded by stones where they decided to spend the night.
Kanga and Emariya, lying with their heads near each other around the campfire, were already asleep.
“Can’t sleep, Demba?” Irika, lying opposite him, asked, sensing him turning over.
“Not really,” Demba replied curtly.
“Can I ask you something?” she continued.
“…What is it?”
“When you saw Hikokyu dead, what were you thinking?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Really? It seemed like you were sad,” Irika said softly, her voice coming from above Demba’s head.
“He was trying to kill us,” he reminded her.
“I know,” she agreed. “But I thought, why did he end up like that?”
Demba was slightly surprised. He had thought the same thing.
“He died. We lived. That’s all there is to it,” he said bluntly.
“You said something similar before. But,” Irika paused, “I’m alive now because of you.”
“Don’t you regret coming along?”
She seemed to smile. “Remember? Samaykachi intended to kill us from the start. If I hadn’t come along, I’d have been killed long ago.”
Demba said nothing.
“If Hikokyu hadn’t been lured by money, he might not have died like that. We don’t know what the future holds. That’s why I want to cherish the connections I make with people,” Irika said.
“What do you want from me?” Demba asked after a moment of silence.
“Nothing. Just be yourself. I just feel that way.”
“I’m not good company,” he said.
“Then, can I stay with you?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He felt as if he had been outmaneuvered, but it didn’t feel unpleasant.
“Demba,” Irika called softly.
“What?”
“You’re kind,” she said after a brief pause.
“Let’s sleep,” he said grumpily.
“I will. Goodnight, Demba.”
※
They set off again the next morning.
The sky was clear, with scattered clouds drifting southward across the vast expanse.
Following the path, they soon entered the land of Wanshu-uchi.
Before they knew it, the beaten path had widened to the width of two people, becoming an ordinary dirt road. On the north side of the road were fields stretching to the foothills. Vibrant young millet leaves swayed in the north wind.
“This area is quite developed,” Demba said, looking at the fields.
“This is Elder Haukase’s territory. The fortress of Osho-kinai at Wanshu-uchi is the southernmost fort. We need to go there first,” Irika pointed north.
“A fortress?”
“It’s called a ‘chasi’. I don’t know much, but it’s supposed to manage the territory. It’s on a hill, I’ve heard.”
The exact purpose of the ‘chasi’ remains unclear, even in modern times. Originally meaning “fence” or “enclosure” in the Ainu language, these sites varied in size and location, and some had traces of ritual use, suggesting they were not just for defense.
“Why do we have to visit it?” Demba asked, a bit exasperated.
“Were you planning to storm straight into the elder’s place? He’s the supreme commander of the Ishikari Ainu. Do you want to be turned away? We need to pay our respects first.”
“Understood.”
They spotted three people crouching in the fields ahead. As they approached, one of the men looked up in surprise and called out to the others. They pointed at the four newcomers and muttered something that sounded like “black men” in Ainu.
Irika approached the bearded man, who backed away cautiously.
“Sorry to bother you while you’re working. Could you tell us how to get to the chasi?” she asked in Ainu.
The man’s eyes widened, and he exchanged glances with the others, who looked puzzled. He turned to Irika with a curious expression.
“The chasi? Are you really going there?” he asked.
“Yes, is there something strange about that?”
“No, it’s fine. Go in that direction,” the man pointed.
Irika led the group onward.
“Something’s strange. Why is it so unusual for us to visit the chasi?” she wondered aloud.
“They called us ‘black men’. Maybe we’re rare here,” Kanga said nonchalantly.
Demba silently agreed something felt off.
Heading northeast from Sapporo along the national road, they crossed the Wanshu-uchi River. Just before reaching the old JNR Satsunan Line Wanshu-uchi Station, they turned west and followed a farm road parallel to the national road. Eventually, a small hill appeared to their left, the site of the “Wanshu-uchi No. 1 Chasi.”
The hill was surrounded by low mountains to the north, with steep slopes to the south. From the south, the hill jutted out like an earthwork.
From the top, one could see in all directions except the north.
The four reached the base of the hill.
Irika looked up. The dense trees obscured the view, with only glimpses of a nine-foot-tall wooden fence visible through the branches.
“Where’s the entrance?” Emariya wondered aloud.
“If there was an entrance, it wouldn’t be a fortress. We probably have to climb up,” Kanga suggested.
“The people inside must have an entrance. Maybe it’s easier to get in from the northern hills.”
They circled around to the north side of the hill.
The slope was steep but not as much as the south side. Using his spear as a staff, Demba led the climb, followed by Irika, Emariya, and Kanga.
“Ah!” Emariya slipped, almost falling backward, but Kanga caught her easily.
“That was close. Thanks, Kanga.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a grin, and Emariya smiled back.
As they reached halfway up the hill, they could see the tall fence more clearly.
They found a narrow path leading up the hill from the south side and followed it.
A deep moat appeared before them.
Looking around carefully, they found a dirt bridge at the edge of the moat and crossed it, climbing the slope again.
Another moat, even deeper than the first, lay ahead.
“This is tough,” Kanga complained.
“It makes sense for a fortress. It would be hard to attack from the outside,” Irika observed, looking at Demba.
He stood still, staring at the northern slope.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He silently pointed to the slope. “What’s that?”
“Where?” Irika squinted. “Oh, there?”
A rope extended from a tall pine tree on the northern slope toward the fortress, hidden among the branches.
“What could it be? I don’t know,” Irika admitted.
“Let’s keep going,” Demba said, moving forward, glancing back occasionally.
Past the moat, a tall wooden fence blocked their way.
“Finally, we’re here. There should be an entrance,” Kanga said, catching his breath.
“There, where the fence is staggered. That must be it,” Emariya suggested.
Irika led the way around to the entrance. As they passed through the staggered fence, they were confronted by seven men.
Startled, Irika froze.
Five men held swords, and two had drawn bows, all pointed at the four newcomers.
“Welcome to Osho-kinai. I’m Ikurui. Quite the diligent assassins to come all this way. Drop your weapons,” a burly man in deerskin directed his sword at Demba.
Realizing there was a grave misunderstanding, Demba dropped his spear.
“What’s going on?” Irika asked, her eyes narrowing as she placed her bow on the ground.
“We’ll hear your explanation later. Tie them up,” Ikurui ordered.